


Plot Twist

by Caro_the_Poet



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, RPF, humor with just a teeny bit of angst, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_the_Poet/pseuds/Caro_the_Poet
Summary: In which it comes to the attention of the fans that RDA has been writing Stargate fanfic for years. Shenanigans ensue.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	Plot Twist

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this is RPF, so if that's not your thing you shouldn't read further.
> 
> All the thanks to my awesome beta, starrybouquet!!

_Once upon a time, in a Stargate fandom far, far away, there was an AO3 fic writer called Fishing4Sam97. This writer was a legend in the fandom. They wrote novel-length stories of friendship, adventure, heartbreak and happy endings, and they shipped Jack and Sam like it was a religion (they may have also written a few Jack/Daniel fics here and there, mostly as a joke, but even those were well done and kept that side of the fandom as happy as disappointed shippers are capable of being). They boasted record numbers of comments and kudos, and were at the top of nearly every fic rec list on Tumblr, and the best part was that they responded to every comment with humor, insight, and appreciation. It was a well-known fact in the fandom that Fishing4Sam97 was not only a good writer, they were Good People too. And with every new story, every oneshot, every hurt/comfort or PWP or Angst With A Happy Ending, their fame and legend grew._

*

Amanda curls up on her couch, legs tucked underneath her and a book of Emily Dickinson’s poetry in her lap. It’s one of those soft summer evenings that feels full of both nostalgia and promise, the past and the future playing their endless game of tag in her mind. She can hear the muffled sounds of Olivia and Alan outside, Olivia laughing and shrieking as she tries to catch a butterfly. If she closes her eyes, she can see herself at Olivia’s age, chasing her brothers around the yard and getting gloriously dirty and sunburned. 

Simpler times. Some days, when the air smells just right, she finds herself missing it more than usual. She sighs and opens her book, rereading the poem she has loved since her childhood:

_I dwell in Possibility--_  
_A fairer House than Prose--_  
_More numerous of Windows--_  
_Superior--for Doors--_

A perfect poem for a perfect night. She’s just about to set the book aside and join Alan and Olivia outside when her phone begins buzzing in her pocket. She pulls it out, sees the name on the screen, and grins. She answers immediately. “Rick! How are you?” 

“Amanda.” He sounds panicked. _“Have you been on Twitter today??”_

*

It was a wonderful convention. One of the best he’d ever been to, in fact. The fans had been adoring, had asked intelligent questions, and had laughed at all his jokes. Really, he couldn’t have asked for a better experience. 

Except for that _one_ question. It wasn’t even a _bad_ question; it had seemed innocuous enough at the time; it was how he had _answered_ it that was the problem. His goddamned brain going off on its goddamned tangents. He’s lived long enough to have gotten fairly familiar with the sensation of his foot in his mouth, but _this_ is another monster entirely and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do. 

“Do you ever read Stargate fanfiction?” the girl had asked, blushing and looking up at him with that shy, almost worshipful expression that always makes him feel a bit like an imposter. _Fangirling,_ Wylie had called it. 

(Wylie had laughed at his adoring fangirls exactly one time before he had reminded her of the state of her own emotions regarding one Harry Styles, but she had only rolled her eyes and said, “Well, _yeah_ , Dad, he’s _Harry Styles_. You’re…”--she cocked her head and squinted critically-- “you’re _you.”_

“Yeah, well, I was MacGyver once,” he had retorted sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at her. 

“Uh-huh, and the mullet was a crime against humanity.” 

He had never dared to bring up the topic again.)

In any case, the pretty young fan’s question had caught him by surprise, which is why he answered _yes_ before he’d had time to think it through. 

It had been all downhill from there.

*  
Amanda stares at the computer screen in disbelief, one hand gripping her phone and the other pressed over her mouth. 

“Are you seeing this?” Rick asks, desperation coloring his voice. 

“Oh, I’m seeing it.” She reads down through the long threads of live tweets from the con, each one peppered with capital letters, copious exclamation points, and screaming reaction gifs. 

@ocolonelmycolonel:  
_RDA says he’s read fanfic!_

_He’s talking about tropes he likes OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING_

_OHMYGOD SOMEONE JUST ASKED HIM WHAT HIS PSEUD IS_

_HE WOULDN’T SAY BUT HE SAID HE POSTED LAST NIGHT_

@jacksfishingpole  
Replying to @ocolonelmycolonel  
_The only person who posted last night was Fishing4Sam???_

@ocolonelmycolonel  
Replying to @jacksfishingpole  
_Are you serious. Are you FUCKING SERIOUS_

@ocolonelmycolonel  
_You heard it here first, folks. Someone verified that he posted last night, and he CONFIRMED IT_

_I AM ACTUALLY DEAD. I HAVE ASCENDED TO A HIGHER PLANE. WILL GIVE YOUR REGARDS TO OMA DESALA WHEN I HAVE RECOVERED A BIT._

@jaffakree  
Replying to @ocolonelmycolonel  
_I...don’t even know what to do with this info. Like. He wrote ALL of those incredible fics?? How is he not a published author???_

@jacksfishingpole  
Replying to @jaffakree and @ocolonelmycolonel  
_Who even knows, maybe he is??_ 👀👀

Amanda presses her lips together hard, because she knows laughing right now would be catastrophic. “So,” she says carefully, “you write fanfiction.” 

“So what? You write poetry!” He’s getting more and more riled and she reflects for a moment on the poetic justice of it all, that once, just _once_ , she has the upper hand here. 

“Not poetry that anyone reads!” 

He huffs. “Not the point.” 

“Oh, it _so_ is! What were you thinking, anyway, telling the fans--at a _con_ , for god’s sake--that you write fanfiction?” 

“Um…” Is he actually at a loss for words? This is an entirely new side of him and she’s not sure she likes it. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

“Hm.” She reads down through the screaming tweets and giggles in spite of herself. 

“You’re _laughing.”_

“Oh, come on, Rick, it’s _funny_. And look how happy they are! _You_ , Jack O'Neill himself, are one of the best-known and most beloved fandom writers. You just made their whole lives.” She pauses. "Are you really upset about this? This is usually the kind of thing you do on purpose."

His voice gets quiet again. “Not everyone is happy.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, it turns out that Wylie’s been reading some Stargate fic, and Fishing4Sam was one of her favorites.” 

“Oh dear _god_.” 

“Yeah. She’s not speaking to me currently.” 

“That seems...drastic.” Amanda switches her phone to the other ear and shifts on the couch. She can still hear the happy sounds of Olivia and Alan in the backyard, but it’s not looking like she’ll be done here anytime soon. 

“Weeelllll….” Rick draws out the word like there’s something he’s not telling her. She waits. “Some of the stories are...explicit? Maybe?” 

Amanda claps her hand over her mouth to stop a shriek of laughter from escaping. Now she has to see this. “Hold on.” She starts typing furiously on her laptop. 

“Wait--what are you doing? I swear to _god_ , Amanda, if you’re going to AO3…” 

“Uh, of _course_ I am,” she replies flippantly. She pulls up AO3 and searches “Fishing4Sam97.” Sure enough, the long list of stories pops up in front of her. Including the latest one. 

Her mouth hangs open. “Richard. Oh. My. God.” Her voice is choked with laughter.

“I _loathe you_. I can’t believe you looked me up.” 

"You adore me and you know it." She scans the screen. “Hmm, let’s see… ‘ _Seeing Stars_ , Jack O’Neill/Daniel Jackson, 100 Kinks Challenge, Explicit.’ Holy _shit._ Did Wylie read this?? No wonder she’s not speaking to you!” 

Rick has nothing to say, and she decides to take pity on him. “Look, I’m sure it’ll blow over. The fandom will move on, and so will Wylie.” 

“‘Move on??’ Have you _met_ our fans? They never 'move on' from anything. You know David DeLuise hardly ever goes to cons because of how much the shippers still hate him? And this is over fictional characters who dated _nine goddamn years ago_.” 

Alan walks into the living room with Olivia trailing behind him. He shoots her a quizzical look. _Is that Rick?_ he mouths at her. 

She nods, and covers the speaker with her hand. “He’s been writing explicit Stargate fanfiction and accidentally told the whole fandom about it. Wylie’s not speaking to him.” 

Alan flinches. “Yikes. That sucks.” 

Rick makes an impatient sound. "Is that Alan? You didn't tell him, did you?"

She turns back to the phone. “Alan sends his condolences.” 

“Great. Just great.” He sighs heavily. “What am I going to do? About Wylie, I mean?” 

She doesn’t answer for a moment. She’s come across a Sam x Jack oneshot titled _On the Dock_ ; it’s a sweet, melancholy little story set just after _Threads_ , and she sees exactly why Fishing4Sam97 is one of the most well-known fandom writers. It’s practically poetry. 

“Sorry, I got distracted. What was the question?” 

“Hey, that’s _my_ line,” Rick says with a chuckle, sounding a little more like himself. He pauses. “You’re still reading, aren’t you? _Traitor_.” 

“But this is really good!” She scrolls down a little further. “I’m reading _On the Dock_. It’s beautiful, Rick! You should have written for the show; it could have ended so much better.” 

He clears his throat, clearly embarrassed by her praise. “Yeah, well. That’s why fanfic exists. To fix the writers’ mistakes.” 

“Be nice to have one of those for real life, wouldn’t it?” 

“No kidding.” 

They are silent for a moment, and Amanda remembers what he had asked her. “Hey, Rick? Wylie’s going to be fine, you know? She’s just mad and embarrassed, and everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen. You remember."

"I was never sixteen."

"Oh, please. You never got _beyond_ sixteen."

“Exactly. I stopped at fifteen. Growing up is for chumps.” 

Amanda laughs. “At least you’re honest with yourself.” She hears Olivia calling from the dining room, and knows she must be setting up a board game. “Rick? I’m going to have to go. Do you...do you want me to talk to Wylie?” 

She hears Rick take a deep breath. “No. I’m not _that_ much of a coward. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay,” she says. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” He ends the call, and she stares at the phone in her hand for a long moment before she joins Olivia and Alan in the dining room. Olivia has Chutes and Ladders spread out on the table, and Alan is taking the pieces out of the box and setting them up. He looks up as she walks in. 

“So…” he pauses. _“Explicit fanfiction?”_ He says the words low and through clenched teeth, not wanting Olivia to overhear. 

Amanda shrugs. “Alan. It’s _Rick.”_

“Right,” says Alan. “Nothing he does shocks you anymore, does it?” 

“It absolutely does not,” she replies, sitting down at the table and flicking the spinner. “You wanna go first, Liv?” 

*

Rick stands indecisively outside of Wiley’s closed bedroom door, thinking desperately that _he did not sign up for this._ Except that he had, and he’d also brought this entire situation on himself. Talking to Amanda had been only marginally comforting. He wonders, sometimes, how she manages to make parenting look so goddamned effortless. It isn’t fair. He wishes he could borrow some of that serenity that she exudes when she’s with Olivia. She never would have gotten herself into this ridiculous situation. 

He’s just about to knock on Wylie’s door when it swings open, and there she is standing in front of him, her face full of the self-righteous anger of a wronged teenager. 

He doesn’t blame her.

She huffs an impatient sigh. _“God,_ Dad, I can _hear_ you thinking out here.” 

He steels himself. “Look, Wylie, about the fanfiction thing--”

“I _really_ don’t want to talk about it, Dad.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I _really_ think we need to talk about it.” 

They face off for a second, and finally Wylie gives in. She leans back against the door frame and crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay. Fine. I don’t have anything to say, so I guess you’d better start.” 

_The hell you don’t,_ he thinks, but he nods his head. “First of all, I’m sorry. I never intended to embarrass you with this. I never intended for anyone to find out it was me. I _certainly_ didn’t know you were so into the show that you were reading fanfic.” 

“So it’s my fault, then?” 

He holds up a hand. “Not what I said.” 

“Look, Dad.” She pushes off the door frame and fixes him with eyes filled with betrayal. “You don’t get it. It’s just...I don’t want to have read that! Not knowing you wrote it! It’s gross and honestly kind of creepy.” 

“Does it help to know I’m as mortified as you are?”

Her face softens just a bit. “I doubt it,” she mumbles, not looking at him. “How can you write those things about your friends?” 

He freezes, because how can he possibly explain _that_ one? “I’m not writing about my friends,” he says finally. “I’m writing about the characters.” 

“Oh, come on! You’re saying you can write about Sam and _not_ think about Amanda? Bullshit.” 

Right for the jugular, just like he taught her. _“Hey,_ now--” 

“I rest my case, Dad. I don’t want to know these things. I never would have read any of those if I’d known it was you.” 

He deflates. He really doesn’t know what else to say. “That’s fair. I’m sorry. I’ll take them down and not post anymore, if it’ll make you feel better.” 

Wiley stares. “You’d do that?” 

“Of course I would. In a heartbeat.” She regards him for a moment longer, as if she’s trying to decide if he’s sincere. He holds her gaze and curbs the urge to make a joke. 

Finally she relaxes. “Thanks, Dad.” She steps away from her doorway and hugs him, and he thanks every god whose name he learned on Stargate that she’s forgiven him. “Dad?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You don’t have to take them down.” 

He pulls away so he can see her face. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “You worked really hard on those, and...your writing...it doesn’t suck.” 

He grins at her. “High praise, indeed.” 

“Also,” she says, and looks a little sheepish, “I may have posted some Stargate fic on AO3 as well.”

He feels his mind start spinning. “Wait--what?” 

“But don’t worry, I don’t write about Jack O’Neill. That’s too weird. I ship Sam with Ba’al in my stories.” 

“You--you _what?_ That’s worse! Ba’al? _Really??”_

“God, Dad, calm down.” Wiley’s face is wearing that shit-stirring grin that she definitely got from him. “It’s fiction, right?” 

He reflects, later, when he’s gotten over the shock, that he probably brought _this_ on himself, too. However, he can’t suppress the small glow of pride he feels when he thinks of his daughter following in his footsteps, even if it’s writing fanfiction. 

He pulls out his phone and opens a text to Amanda. _You are never going to guess how that went down.._.


End file.
